Modern Weapons: A Small Arms Profile
by Chris4Short
Summary: Short profiles of the P90, M9, Claymores, Staff Weapons and Zats as only SG21, and sometimes SG1, can tell it. Short stories, hopefully you will laugh... Please R&R. UPDATED!
1. P90s

Modern Weapons: A Small Arms Profile 

By Chris4Short

I made SG-21's members up…. Use only with my permission. Thanks to my brother who supplied the vastly superior military knowledge to my vastly stupid stories.

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P-90: The premiere weapon of choice when defending ones self in ground fighting. Warning: do not disassemble if you can't put it back together. (Note: if you are left with a spring in your hand, chances are do not know how to put it back together.)

Senior Airman Phillip Quen, proud to be of Chinese/American decent, quietly smirked as the native children tried to touch him. The mostly dark population was surprised to see SG-21 come into their village. They were, after all, standing out. After the curious glances, the attempts at communication – the natives seemed to click their conversations – they settled down a bit, but still very interested in the newcomers.

And then Quen came into the village. Everyone clicked and turned to see the man who was a shade different from the others, even so he wore the same olive green outerwear. They all were invited to dinner at the biggest house, they agreed to cautiously eating the food.

But now, Quen very smug at getting all the attention, let his guard down a bit as the children kept pointing to his P-90. Smiling, he put the weapon down on the table, clanking to see if Captain Sara Kimberly was occupied; he was not really supposed to undo his weapon like this, especially around people e they didn't communicate with.

Another smile and Quen had gotten the clip out, safely tucking it in his vest. After five minutes he had the thing into reasonably sized pieces, enough to make the children wide eyed. Honestly Quen was amazed at himself; he was sure he never was able to do that before. Nodding to the excited chatter, he picked up the piece that looked like the butt and began to snap things together.

Quen held the reassembled weapon up to show the small crowd. He noticed the strap was missing, and as he picked it up off the table, two shinny coils came into view.

"Aw, crap," he muttered. Closing his eyes, he cleared his throat; he knew this could be bad. "Captain Kimberly?"

After a moment the Captain came into the room. "Yes, Quen?"

"I think this P-90 came with two extra springs," Quen said innocently.

"That's not good," Kimberly said she took the two springs in her hand. "Give me the weapon, I think I know exactly where these go."

Quen handed the P-90 gingerly across the table. Even as Kimberly grasped the weapon, they both felt it begin to fall apart. Sure enough, it fell into two pieces as Quen pulled back. The once memorized children turned in horror toward Quen, and then broke out into laughter. No one needed that translated.

Despite Quen's pleas to cut the research short right away, Kimberly told him that their directive was to stay for two weeks and gather minerals to discover hw to make grass eatable. Quen, who now could not live down the confidence he once had, hid in the house of their hosts, but still was found by the children who laughed and pointed.

"Ya, ya, never be left with two springs outside the P-90," he muttered as they, a long two weeks later, arrived back at the SGC.


	2. M9s

Side arm – M9: Military issued guns that are used as a back-up weapon. Warning: do not attempt to explain the extra usefulness of this weapon. (Note: the constant explanations could cause others to want to use it for it's initial purpose.) 

"I think it's wonderful since it is so easy to use," Gunner Mate Henry Pole said, turning back to Daniel. Daniel pulled a tight smile, disparate to get out of the cave he and Pole found themselves in. "I mean, naturally, it can be very dangerous, but if it's set to 'safety' it should be okay."

"I'll note that, Pole. Any way out yet?" Daniel asked, glad for the darkness masking his closed eyes and pinching of his nose.

"Oh, not yet," Pole said after a moment. Continuing, he said, "You can always take the bullets out and use the clip as a water delivering device. It's small, but it can do the job should you lose your water canteen. And the bullets can be taken apart, emptied, and used to start a fire." Pole paused and nodded into the darkness. "See the military didn't know how wonderful the M9 really is. They just think it's a weapon."

"Wonderful, I'm sure. Can we just concentrate on the fact we are trapped?" Daniel said, gripping his own side arm. After all, he could always use the percussion from the blast to maybe knock a hole back into the cave, alerting the rest of SG-21 and SG-1 to their location.

Or to at least to Daniel's.


	3. Claymores

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating - two words Real Life. It sucks, but one must deal with it... so here is all about claymores... And ya, I know it's a tad unbelievable, but once more my brother helped with the weapons - and he's a former Marine...

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Claymores: small devices to be used to create a blast seriously damage the target. Warning: do not use near items that are highly flammable. (Note: do not attempt to find what things are flammable.) PX7-4952 – After Action Report – SG-21; Captain Sara Kimberly 

Marine Lance Corporal Ray Perez and my 2IC, Air Force Technical Sergeant Frank Henna's explanations for the subsequent loss of five cases of MREs, a barrel of gasoline, several layers of bullet resistant and fire retardant outer-ware and the general disruption ofPX7-4952's habitat, including the found scorch marks on the MALP, transport buggy with mounted 40mm grenade launcher, personnel and decoy machines, was as follows:

Perez: In the even that there is a need to disrupt the natural state of the enemies molecular make-up…

Henna: He means, 'blow them up.'

Perez: We should be prepared to use whatever we have in our packs and on our equipment. Along with planting claymores to cause such a disruption, we should know how to advance the abilities of the devices.

Henna: He means we need to know how to make the explosion bigger.

Perez: Henna and I took it upon ours elves, under no direction or guidance from Captain Kimberly, to test this.

Henna: It was all out doing. No one else's.

Perez: The hindrance of the sudden fierce thunderstorm was taken into account. We deemed the experiment too important and had to continue in its search. However, the factor of the various incendiary devices stationed around our shelter, coupled with the already powerful explosion of the original devices was not fully expected.

Henna: Honestly, we did not think before we planted the claymores and the fist experimental device. Upon further reflection, I believe the biggest lapse in judgment was not securing all the weapons, namely the 40mm grenade launcher. If we had seen the mistake, admitted to later by Quen, the subsequent firing of the white prosperous high explosive grenades would not have occurred. And subsequently the running for our lives and resulting forest fire would not have happened. We are really sorry for the damage and forest fire we caused.

Captain Kimberly's Endnote: I recommend the removal of all firing pins from any weapon that Senior Airman Quen should handle. In the event of a real emergency, and under the strict supervision of one of the higher-ranking officers, he can have a working weapon to defend himself. Per that, I fear he could inadvertently harm someone, if not himself.


	4. Staff Weapons

Well I came across more of these vinettes, so figured I would update the fic too. Once more, pure fluff and silliness, and sadly did not have the benifit of my brother's weapontry knowledge...

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Staff Weapons: weapons that are used to effectively kill your opponent. Warning: these are dangerous and should be treated as such. (Note: these items are not to be traded or treated as real staffs on any world. No matter what the natives say it looks like.)

Mitchell squinted. Surely he had to be wrong, his eyes deceiving him. He glanced toward Teal'c and the two raised an eyebrow. Ok, so maybe he was not too far off. He gave a chuckle; these negotiations would be great. Daniel and Sam were already betting how long it would take before a few select members of SG-21 would be allowed off world again.

"Hey folks," Mitchell started, coming down the hill, SG-1 trailing after him. Sam was trying to get Teal'c to up his wager; surely 3 weeks would be too short.

"Oh, ah, hi, Colonel Mitchell. Teal'c, Jackson, Colonel Carter," Senior Airman Quen said. "You here to help?" He had hope in his voice, Mitchell noted. Maybe they could play this out a bit more.

"Oh just in the galactic neighborhood, so to speak. Heard in the village that Pole ran into a slight problem."

"Ya, I guess you could say that," Quen said slowly. "Look, Captain Kimberly is already going to have our hide for this, is there some way we could get this rectified and get home?"

"Broke all your P-90s?" Daniel said quietly. Sam jabbed him the ribs, thankful that Quen did not hear.

"You mean Pole was not wanting to try a new vocation?" Mitchell said, now chewing on a stalk of wheat. He thought it was wheat, at least.

Quen paled. "No sir. It was a big misunderstanding."

"I thought that Pole could talk himself out of anything. Fancied himself a linguist," Sam piped in. Daniel shot her a look.

"Ya, well…" Quen answered, shifting. "Look, just help us, maybe not tell how bad it got, and we will buy you lunch or something… please?"

"He is indeed worried. I will take your advice, ColonelCarter and up my wager by a week," Teal'c said, leaning beside his teammate.

Out in the field, still in his olive SGC jacket, stood Pole, minus a staff weapon, which he insisted on carrying. Instead, he held another kind of staff, and was surrounded by big, fluffy, cotton balls on legs, baaing and looking for direction. Mitchell regarded the scene for a moment longer. "It reminds me of my grandmother's place. I think Kimberly is wise for taking his real weapon away. The whole sheep thing looks very…"

"Pastoral?" Sam supplied.

"Very. I'm sure Landry would agree." Mitchell took out a digital camera, and snapped a picture of Pole and the sheep. "Gunner Mate, a word of advice – don't pick up others tools of trade if you don't want to do the job!"

Landry, after laughing for a few minutes, gave the order for Gunner Mate Pole and Senor Airman Quen, who dared Henna to pick the Shepard staff up in the first place, for 3 weeks of on base confinement.

The picture, dubbed 'Pastoral Pole,' was tacked to the SGC message board by the mess hall.


	5. Staff Weapons Pt2

And part 2 of "Staff Weapons"

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(Note 2: Do not attempt to use this weapon for any other means other than killing, seriously wounding or damaging objects and persons. Doing so could be extremely damaging to oneself and surroundings. And the weapon could be destroyed too.)

Pole sat in the corner with Perez, thankful for the deck of cards his wife always packed. She never knew that they were used when he was not on Earth, but on the down time incurred in far away places. Much farther then Afghanistan.

He grinned as he once more beat Perez, Henna and Kimberly congratulating him. The only one missing from the team off world down time was Quen. Pole had seen him reading a book, listening to his iPod. The team thought it was a cleaver thing to bring, and all had vowed to bring one for the next mission. Sometimes they could camp out for a day or so and not meet anyone, causing Kimberly to hum TV theme songs, Henna trying to sing the "Star Spangled Banner" backwards, and Perez and Pole playing "Name that Tree."

"Hey were is Quen?" Henna asked as they started a new round of cards.

"I saw him reading before," Pole said.

"I saw him leave a bit ago," Perez supplied.

The went back to their game until they herd a small popping sound and a ear shattering, girly scream from the front of the cave they had made their shelter. Kimberly and her team abandoned their game and raced outside. Henna, the group medic, grabbed his kit on the way out.

They all pulled up short, momentarily confused. It had to have been Quen who screamed, but where was he? "Quen?" Kimberly called.

"He-re… ma'am…" a voice said. She turned toward the voice and saw a man around Quen's height stagger toward him. "I think I did a bad thing."

Henna rushed to the aid of his teammate. Quen was black, head to toe, and had bits of dirt and mud clinging to him. There was also a small white cord dangling from his ear. "What happened?"

"The iPod died, and so… I … figured I could get it powered up using the staff weapon. I think I broke it," Quen said very quietly.

Perez shook his head. "Don't pet burning dogs…" he said as he started patching what he could.

SG-21 hurried back to the Gate, half dragging, half carrying Quen. When Landry saw them, and did a double take, he ordered them all to the infirmary. Kimberly got a call, which she transferred to Quen from the Armory. It seemed that the broken, half crisped staff weapon was a personal favorite of a now very angry Marine.

Quen asked to be kept in the infirmary for a week longer than Lam wanted. She had denied the request, saying that the infirmary was not a place for cowards. Nor was it a place for make-shift scientists.


End file.
